


A Friendly Wager

by swallowed_stars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Magical Realism, Morally Grey Characters, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom Keith, Smoking, They team up and fuck with Keith's abusive ex, references to past abuse, roaring 20's au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowed_stars/pseuds/swallowed_stars
Summary: “No can do, baby. I have something else in mind for tonight.” Keith says as he turns back to the vanity. The finishing touches are nearly there; he just has to see them through, maybe even snatch a dab or two of Kuro’s cologne.Kuro folds his arms across his chest in false nonchalance. He says, “Oh yeah, and what were you thinking?”“How about ruining my ex’s night?” Keith says, eyeing Kuro from the mirror.





	1. Loosen Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sochan/gifts).



Keith stares back at himself in the mirror pensively. He gathers a batch of his long black hair and ties it up, leaving two strands to hang freely and frame his face. He then angles his head to the side just to make certain that it looks acceptable.

 

A sigh of irritation escapes Keith as he still feels that something’s off. Then his ears pick up the sound of someone approaching him from behind as he adjusts the knot of his tie for the umpteenth time.

 

“Leave it, kitten. It looks great.” Kuro hums, his arms curving around the small of Keith’s waist. His hands come to rest on the incline of Keith’s hips and Keith sighs when Kuro’s thumbs rub circles against the bone there.

 

Keith smirks at him in the mirror; he knows Kuro’s doing this so Keith can watch his own reflection when he’s being touched. To see his reaction to Kuro in real time.

 

Kuro’s eyes are the color of liquid gold, and they glint mischievously as his hands begin to wander. One hand moves to cup the globe of Keith’s ass and the other inches along Keith’s crotch. That is, until Keith puts a stop to it. He shakes off Kuro’s touches as he mutters, half to himself:

 

“Kind of wish I could wear a dress, just to really sell it.” Keith regards his reflection, picturing himself in something skin-tight to baffle his ex.

 

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining, though I would be jealous.” Kuro leans in to place his mouth against the skin of Keith’s neck; however, Keith clasps his hand over Kuro’s mouth playfully.

 

Keith pivots around so he can face Kuro, his tone sly as he says:

 

“Don’t be jealous; it’s not very cute on you.”

 

Keith feels Kuro’s mouth stretch into a grin beneath his hand and before he knows it, there’s the wet sensation of Kuro’s tongue licking a stripe against his palm. Keith retracts his hand, unable to contain a laugh as he says:

 

“Are you satisfied with yourself?”

 

“I figured we’d leave the satisfying until later. Then again, I could be persuaded.”

 

It is tempting, especially given the way all of Kuro’s formal wear fits him. It’s a languid sort of seduction, the way his white button down shirt curves along the distinct slope of his body, from his broad chest to his waist that’s far narrower in comparison. His trousers are held in place by black suspenders, which settle nicely on his square shoulders. The whole of it is crisp and enticing and looks completely effortless, which ignites Keith in more than one manner. On the one hand, he wishes he had such careless and provoking savvy. On the other hand, he’s more than glad to be on the receiving end of it.

 

In spite of all this, Keith knows that he needs to finish getting ready if the night’s going to be put into motion. He fully steps back from Kuro and smiles his best little coquette smile.

 

“No can do, baby. I have something else in mind for tonight.” Keith says as he turns back to the vanity. The finishing touches are nearly there; he just has to see them through, maybe even snatch a dab or two of Kuro’s cologne.

 

Kuro folds his arms across his chest in false nonchalance. He says, “Oh yeah, and what were you thinking?”

 

“How about ruining my ex’s night?” Keith says, eyeing Kuro from the mirror.

 

“Hmm, you know, that could be fun. Wonder who came up with such an ingenious idea.” Kuro says.

 

Keith lifts the green, rectangular bottle of cologne and tips it until he has a healthy amount in his hand. He then blots at either side of his neck, coating it in the musky-scented liquid.

 

“Just a quick screw I met in a jazz bar one night. Can’t remember his name, but at least he had those strong arms.” Keith mutters, and he waits for Kuro to take the bait. Kuro doesn’t voice his annoyance, but Keith catches the momentary twitch in his left eye. One of the perks about Keith letting himself get close to Kuro is being able to detect each of his tells. Whether or not Kuro’s aware of the fact is beyond him.

 

“You talk kinda dirty for a fella dressed all prim like that. How do you sleep at night?” Kuro asks as he takes to leaning back against the edge of the bed. He watches Keith hungrily from behind.

 

“Most nights? Not so good.” Keith replies as he moves from the vanity and saunters over to Kuro. He looms over Kuro, who sprawls out beneath him on the bed with a smirk. Keith then tugs at Kuro’s bowtie and adds in a low, heated voice: “After tonight? Hopefully rolling naked in money.”

 

Kuro’s gold eyes flare with want as Keith’s lips hover close to his own. He whines, “You’re being no fair.”

 

“Fair ain’t gonna get us revenge, baby. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Keith doesn’t pause for a rebuttal; he covers Kuro’s mouth with his own, intending for it to be a chaste kiss, but Kuro has other ideas. He laces his tongue with Keith’s, moaning softly into his mouth. Kuro’s hands then press jauntily against Keith’s backside, making Keith grunt into the kiss as his waist grinds down against Kuro’s.

 

The kiss is severed when Kuro begins cackling, clearly amused with himself. His hands dwell along the arch of Keith’s back, petting the grooves of Keith’s spine through his shirt. Keith then rests his head in the gap between Kuro’s neck and his shoulder.

 

“See, now we got a problem.” Kuro murmurs in Keith’s ear.

 

Keith bobs his head to the side so that his question isn’t muffled: “What’s that?”

 

“I don’t feel like letting you go.” Kuro says.

 

Keith’s fingers blindly skitter across the length of Kuro’s jaw. He doesn’t need to look up; his hands know how to find him. It’s the only way to really know Kuro: through touch. Everything else is smoke.

 

“Part of me doesn’t feel like going anyhow.” Keith admits, the tips of his fingers smoothing across Kuro’s chin. There had been light stubble there this morning, but it’s since been removed.

 

Kuro fidgets and wraps a supportive arm around Keith, shaking him for emphasis. He says, “C’mon, kitten. Sure you do. Haven’t I told you how much fun it is to play with your food?”

 

Keith sits up, his hand falling aside from Kuro and absentmindedly drifting to his own cheekbone. There’s nothing there, but he can feel the ghost of a sting. A fleeting memory of bruises blooming on his face, the strike of a hand…

 

“It’s not that, I just…” Keith trails off, Kuro observing this with a growl bubbling in his throat.

 

“That’s why we’re gonna make him pay.” Kuro says firmly, but Keith doesn’t respond. He simply sits there, pretty and still as porcelain, swallowing his fear of a man he isn’t even looking at. Kuro can’t control himself from letting his anger usurp control, and he wrenches forward suddenly, suspended behind Keith as he rumbles:

 

“I could just swoop in there and take care of him instead. By the time I grab him and phase back out, no one will have even noticed.”

 

The vibrant glow of Kuro’s eyes draws Keith’s attention back to the mirror; all he can see is yellow slits where Kuro’s normal eyes once were and a crooked smirk plastered to his face.

 

“Quit that; you need to keep it hidden tonight until the exact moment. Otherwise, we’re gonna have a lot more problems on our hands than just messing with Jack-fuckin’-Marlow.” Keith warns.

 

Kuro blinks once, and when his eyes are open again, they’re their natural golden hue.

 

“You’re right, I just got a little carried away.” Kuro says, and Keith reaches behind to thrum his fingers through Kuro’s tuft of white hair. It’s an act of sedation, of coaxing Kuro down from his ire, and Kuro takes to it, leaning into his touch.

 

“No getting carried away for either of us. We need to do this perfectly or not at all. That’s what you said in the first place.”

 

Kuro hums in agreement, though a scowl rips across his features as he comes to a regrettable realization.

 

“What?” Keith says, noticing Kuro’s sour face.

 

Kuro exhales and snakes an arm around Keith’s midsection possessively, pulling Keith into his lap. He then says: “I’m gonna have to watch him touch you.”

 

“You didn’t take that into consideration when you first suggested this to me?”

 

“I think I was blocking it out for fear of putting my fist through a wall.”

 

“That was a good call; I like the walls in your penthouse.”

 

Kuro wordlessly detaches from Keith and clambers off of the bed, heading past the bathroom and toward the kitchen.

 

“What are you doing?” Keith calls to him.

 

Kuro doesn’t respond until he’s back in their room, a thin-necked bottle of tawny liquid in one hand and two glasses clutched in the other. He places the glasses down on the nightstand and uncaps the bottle he’s holding, pouring a thin line of alcohol into each glass.

 

“Figured we could both use something to loosen us up before the fact.” Kuro says. He offers a glass to Keith, who takes it but chuckles at him all the same.

 

“This whiskey?”

 

“You ever know me to drink anything else?”

 

“They’re gonna lock you away if they ever catch you with this.”

 

“Yeah, thankfully I’m the only guy in New York that has illegal alcohol on him. Makes the search way easier.”

 

Keith swirls the whiskey around in his glass noncommittally. It’s not the first time he’s been made aware of Kuro’s smuggling, but with how closely they’re going to tow the line this evening, picturing him in jail isn’t exactly a welcome thought.

 

Keith purses his lips in disapproval, which Kuro is quick to spot. He reaches over and curls one of Keith’s loose locks around his pointer finger.

 

“Don’t be like that; you think I’m gonna let anyone separate me and you? No way.” Kuro says, and Keith lightens somewhat. Keith deposits a kiss against Kuro’s knuckle before he relinquishes Keith’s strand of hair.

 

“We’re gonna have to separate tonight, at least for a little bit.” Keith says.

 

Kuro nods stoically. He says: “You remember it all, though? You know what to do? Where to take him?”

 

“You offer me the chance to take Jack Marlow down a peg and you really think I’m not gonna remember the whole damn scheme? I’ve been _dreamin’_ of this.” Keith says, that ambitious flash in his purple eyes making it very hard for Kuro to not pin him to the nearest wall.

 

Keith lifts his neglected glass of whiskey in front of him for a toast, announcing:

 

“To revenge, and to our soon-to-be riches.”

 

Kuro taps his own glass against Keith’s, adding jovially:

 

“To Jack-fuckin’-Marlow.”


	2. Say Goodnight

The red awning on the outside of the brick building reads “Club 31”, but those important enough to know better understand that what awaits them is far more than some run of the mill social spot. Keith stands on the street corner facing it, breathing deeply through his nostrils in order to compose himself. It’s been some time since he’s tried to get in to the Pour House in the basement, but he knows the handshake by heart.

 

“Don’t be nervous.” Kuro’s voice wafts from behind Keith and into his ear.

 

Keith smirks and tugs at one of the straps of Kuro’s suspenders, a muffled slap reverberating when he lets it go.

 

“Don’t be jealous.” Keith counters and he walks off before Kuro can manage a reply. If there’s one thing Keith adores, it’s having the last word. That just so happens to be the theme for tonight.

 

Even with the growing distance, he can feel Kuro’s eyes baring into him. He feels the sear of those golden eyes on the small of his back, and though it isn’t predatory, it isn’t devoid of possessiveness. He’s going to have to get used to feeling that presence for most of the night.

 

Keith crosses the street and approaches the club, wondering if perchance he might recognize the greeter outside. They switch them out often enough, but Jack was, if nothing else, a creature of habit, and Keith would know this place blindfolded.

 

In fact, Keith doesn’t know the man who’s standing outside just beneath the awning. He’s tall and decently built with blonde hair and a smile that’s cordial but does seem to hold an underlying air of menace. Realistically, Keith knows that Kuro would’ve told him if the handshake had changed—after all, Kuro makes a decent sum working with this particular speakeasy—but he’s still nervous.

 

Keith keeps steady as both he and the greeter move to grasp the other’s hand. Keith gives the man an assertive shake of the hand and then moves to curl his fingers briefly against the other man’s as if kneading dough. Keith then lets go and the man flashes a handsome smile at him before nodding his approval. Keith walks through the revolving door and thinks to himself that Kuro, if he’s still watching, is going to memorize that guy’s face—smiling the way he did has never been a part of the reception process.

 

Keith walks through the foyer and past a few groups of individuals huddled together, either awaiting more from their party or lingering before they start their night. Jack told him all about the saloon that used to be in here before the authorities broke it up. You can still see the holes—like gaping eyes—in the floor where the bar stools used to be. Still, despite the illicit nature of it all, there’s something jolting about the experience of meandering down to the Pour House below.

 

Keith approaches the bookshelf against the far wall and raps against it. He then steps back in time for it to push open, revealing a second, shadowy greeter and the flight of stairs to the bar. Keith moves past the man and descends the staircase, the illumination of several chandeliers growing stronger the further he goes.

 

When Keith is finally in the basement, he looks around to taste the scenery. It’s been ages since he’s been among this crowd: an amalgam of all walks of life from the suit-bedecked muckety-mucks to working class, all brought together for the common purpose of cheating the system. If nothing else, Prohibition is a great means of unification.

 

Keith scans the room, yarns of smoke from various cigars and cigarettes brewing a large, dirty fog above everyone’s heads. Suddenly he feels dizzy and dreamlike, as though he’d never actually left here. After all, tonight is indeed a retracing of his own steps: soon enough he’ll be back in the lap of Jack Marlow, knocking back gin and faking amusement like he used to. The only difference is a matter of the upper hand, which Keith has on his side for once.

 

Keith wants to look for Jack’s usual booth, but he elects to order his drink first. He places his money on the counter for the bartender and in turn the bartender slides a clear glass of gin across to Keith. Keith takes it in one hand and swallows a large gulp of it, almost gasping at the onslaught of pine taste.

 

As Keith adjusts to the alcohol, he gathers up the courage to find Jack. If he’s going to do this, he can’t exhibit any apprehension. The world is full of cruel people like Jack Marlow, patiently waiting behind a false smile for others to grow sharper. That’s the one thing Keith was glad he could take home from their relationship.

 

Keith takes another sip, childishly mulling over the phrase “ready or not” in his mind, and heads toward the far left corner of the bar. Keith can already see the slicked back ruff of black hair atop Jack’s head and as Keith advances toward his table, he realizes what he’d hoped wasn’t true: Jack’s every bit as striking as the way he’d left him. The suit he’s donned for the evening—like spun silver when it catches the light—plays to the best of his features like a fine-tuned piano. His blue eyes, like those of a Mesmerist, cleave Keith open like a piece of fruit. He’s searching deep into Keith, looking see if the worms have gotten to his rind from years of cruelty. Keith smiles to himself knowing that he’ll find none.

 

“Jack…” Keith says coolly, if only to shake the tension.

 

Jack sits forward, everyone else around him having gone quiet. The two women in the booth—one redheaded, one blonde—stare at Keith as though he’s ruined the entire course of their evening just by virtue of having shown up. In fairness, that isn’t entirely incorrect.

 

Jack smiles at Keith in that manner that Keith’s come to know. It’s intimate and endearing and Keith would almost fall for it if he didn’t know better.

 

“Hi there, darling.” Jack says.

 

\----

 

Keith draws a line of kisses beginning at Jack’s forehead and halting just above Jack’s lips, which are tented slightly by the thin line of a moustache. Keith laughs as Jack places a hand on Keith’s knee, groaning to show his displeasure.

 

Jack’s three drinks in, his head starting to loll more than it ought to and his cheeks flaring a shy red. While Keith has been indulging, he’s been watching his intake, making certain to only sip. Thankfully Jack is too wrapped up in the feeling of Keith sitting between his legs to voice any suspicions if they arise.

 

Keith feels conflicted at being in his former lover’s arms again, as he suspected he would. He knows that this is all for show, but he can’t help the wariness that creeps up every time he remembers that Kuro’s staring them both down from somewhere in the bar. It feels terrible to make Kuro watch all this, but Kuro promised it’d be a good payoff for the both of them. It’s up to Keith to see this part of the plan through. Thankfully, all of Jack’s friends were considerate enough to leave them to it once Keith climbed into Jack’s lap.

 

Keith comes to cup Jack’s face, his wrists sitting promptly at the tip of Jack’s chin. Jack hums in gratification, blinking up at Keith with those blue eyes and muttering:

 

“You hurt me real bad when you left, darling. I ain’t been the same since.”

 

Keith has no rebuttal for that repugnant statement outside of yelling or outright violence. He wants to pick up the ashtray to his right, cigarette still burning low in it, and toss it at Jack’s head the way he did Keith the first time a deal had gone awry. Instead, he takes to kissing along the length of Jack’s neck, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth here and there. This is the language he’s come to know, the one he speaks best. 

 

“Did you come here tonight ‘cause you missed me?” Jack asks and Keith can’t help the sigh that escapes him. Keith reels back so that he can face Jack properly, saying modestly:

 

“That’s…part of it, yeah.”

 

“Part of it?”

 

Keith takes one of Jack’s arms and places it on his shoulder to maintain a connection. Keith looks into Jack’s eyes without the slightest stab of fear, and _goddamn_ does he feel like he could eat him whole right then and there.

 

“Truth is, I was looking for you. I had an idea for something to do, but I need your help.” Keith admits, and he already knows he’s got him when Jack’s eyes round with curiosity.

 

“What kinda something?” Jack says, maintaining a cautious yet semi-lidded look.

 

Keith presses himself against Jack, wriggling impatiently as he grumbles: “I wanna have some fun, Jacky. But you’re the only cat I know who can help me pull it off.”

 

Keith has his head nudged squarely against Jack’s shoulder, but he can picture the tight curl of a smirk forming on Jack’s face. The only thing Jack Marlow laps up quicker than bourbon is acclaim.

 

“What do you need _me_ for, darling?” Jack says, and for a moment, Keith worries that Jack isn’t quite gone enough to agree. Still, there’s no going back now.

 

Keith pulls back and smiles greedily. He says, “Who else is smart enough? It’s gotta be you, Jacky. You gotta help me break into the bank-“

 

“-The bank?”

 

“The one down on 79th, yeah.”

 

Jack shifts uncomfortably in Keith’s hold, his brows knitted together in confusion.

 

“The bourbon must be gettin’ to my hearing. I thought you just said you were tryna steal from the bank.”

 

Keith responds to this by reaching over and smoothing out the corners of Jack’s shirt collar. He smiles coyly and is careful to let Jack have the next word.

 

“You’re really serious about this.” Jack says it aloud, though it’s completely to himself.

 

“How about it, huh? You like money, adventure…” Keith punctuates this by nuzzling his nose against Jack’s, the tickle of his breath ghosting against Jack’s lips.

 

“I already got money, darling.” Jack chuckles.

 

“A whole vault’s worth? C’mon, you never once thought of all the piles of dough just sitting pretty in there…” Keith whispers, taking to running his hands through Jack’s hair.

 

Jack massages his hands against either of Keith’s thighs, which are still spread in front of him. His dilated pupils flicker up to Keith’s face, asking concernedly:

 

“How exactly do you plan to pull this off?”

 

“I’ve got help.” Keith says automatically.

 

“Then where do I come in?”

 

“He’s more the lock pick than actual help. Just a bit of insurance to make sure we can get in and out without anybody knowing.”

 

Jack claps his hand against his forehead, saying: “I must be crazy.”

 

Keith edges closer, turning Jack’s face to him by hooking his thumb under Jack’s chin.

 

“Jack,” Keith says, “you sit in here every Saturday night and waste your time doing the same damn thing as the week before. You waste your time with people you’re smarter than, better than. I hated watching you do it then and I hate watching it now. All I’m asking is for one little adventure to shake things up. After that, you’ll be so rich, you can _buy_ the Pour House.”

 

Keith notes the way Jack wraps his hand into a fist and he knows that the deal has been silently struck. Jack reaches around Keith and grabs his distended glass of bourbon, bringing it to his lips and downing the last bit.

 

“We’ll go have your fun.” Jack mumbles, adding: “Then I assume we’ll be parting ways and saying goodnight, huh, darling?”

 

“I don’t know; you might have a hard time carrying all that money. Might have to follow you home.” Keith drawls, tapping his pointer finger against Jack’s lips, to which Jack responds by grabbing Keith’s wrist and placing a kiss against the back of Keith’s hand.

 

“Shall we?” Jack says in a low tone.

 

\----

 

Jack stumbles as they’re climbing the many steps to the bank’s entrance, but this hardly matters, as Keith’s been eagerly pulling him along for the past few blocks. Both Keith and Jack giggle in their alcohol-induced stupor and keep climbing, Keith leading the way until they’ve reached the front door. Keith makes to open it, but he hesitates when Jack speaks up:

 

“We’re gonna just walk right in there?”

 

Keith says to him very certainly: “I told you I had a guy. He’s made sure we won’t trip any alarms; everything should be open.”

 

Keith fulfills this by pushing open the main door and walking in without any repercussions, Jack trailing behind him. The room that opens up before them is chasmal and ornate, sporting many columns, a beautiful overhead lighting fixture, and the enormous face of a clock hanging above where the tellers stand. Unfortunately all of this is only at half-mast in terms of presentation, as the bank is completely dark save for the wedges of moonlight coming through.

 

“Where’re we going?” Jack says as Keith peers around in the dark. Instinct causes him to head toward the tellers’ counters and he motions for Jack to come along. They meander behind the counters, all of which are carved like iron vines, and Keith locates the staircase thanks to the sliver of light lurking from it. Keith then smirks to himself.

 

“This way.” Keith instructs, moving past the remainder of the counters and to the stairs.

 

“What’s the light doing on down there?” Jack whispers, staring down into the labyrinthine basement blankly.

 

“You don’t have to whisper; I promise nobody’s here. And they probably keep the lights on all night down here for the guards.”

 

“Guards?”

 

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you-“

 

“-I know, I know. It’s all a done deal. Forgive my bein’ worried about stealing on federal property.”

 

Keith keeps his back to Jack as he heads down, playfully saying: “I never knew you were such a spoilsport. You do all this talking during your other scams?”

 

Jack ‘hmph’s and continues following Keith until they’ve spotted the pièce de résistance: the bank’s vault, refined and open-mouthed and theirs for the taking. Jack emits a small laugh out of pure exaltation.

 

“Can’t believe this…” Jack trails off.

 

“Save the skepticism for when we’ve got our money back at home.” Keith says and he goes toward the vault first, peeking his head in. However, his head just as soon snaps back, looking erratically over his shoulder.

 

“You hear that?” Keith asks.

 

“Hear what?” Jack’s careful to drop his voice again as Keith sidles past him, looking back at the stairs.

 

“Do me a favor: you head in there and start grabbing what you can. I’m gonna go make sure the coast is clear; something doesn’t feel right.” Keith says.

 

Jack’s face falls and he says: “You _sure_ about all this?”

 

“It’s probably nothing, but I just want to see for myself. I’ll be right back down. Now go; time’s a’wasting.”

 

Jack watches Keith run back upstairs with mounting anxiousness. He’s starting to sober up and realize how stupid this whole thing is, but he’s already here, so there isn’t much that can be done. He huffs and turns back toward the vault.

 

Jack wanders through the opening of the vault, freezing in place when he sees someone bent over, gathering handfuls of gold coins in his hands and hastily shoving them into his pockets. Jack’s pretty grateful for the delayed reaction time thanks to all that bourbon he had; sense washes over him and tells him that this has to be the guy that Keith mentioned. But then, why would Keith not have told him if he’d already seen his assistant in the vault…

 

As if on cue, the stranger turns around. To his horror, Jack sees that the man’s eyes are glowing yellow, his face ridden with a lupine smirk. Jack chokes down a gasp so quickly that he can’t even manage to yell out. Then, to make matters worse, the alarm is tripped from somewhere else in the bank, causing an obnoxiously loud chirping to echo throughout the entire building.

 

Jack whips his head behind him intuitively when the alarm goes off. Though only a few seconds tick by before Jack turns his head back in the direction of the other man—if one could even call him that—the man is suddenly gone. All that’s left in his place are two ribbons of smoke.

 

It’s at this moment that Jack feels the push of a hand against his back, causing him to fall flat onto the marble floor of the vault. Jack can barely make out Keith’s voice as the door to the vault swings shut on him. Keith seems to say:

 

“Goodnight, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was very little Kuro/Keith in this chapter and I apologize for that but I'll make it worth your while next time around.


	3. Promises, Promises

Jack’s cell is damp and drafty. There’s a poor excuse for a window on the far wall: more so an awkward, square-shaped rift in the gray brick than anything else. Light from the moon is slanting in, casting an artificial spotlight on Jack as he sits on his cot and grumbles to himself.

 

Jack feels a flash of extreme ire every time he remembers how gullible he was. He can hear the phoned-in affection in Keith’s tone:

 

_“Goodnight, darling…”_

Jack’s hands are balled into such tight fists that he can feel his blood circulation waning. He swivels atop the surface of his cot and punches fiercely against the wall behind him. Though his knuckles throb in an instant, it feels worth it when he pictures his former lover’s face in place of the wall.

 

“That’s not really a viable way outta here, Jacky boy.”

 

Jack sucks in a breath and turns back around, meeting the glowing yellow eyes of none other than the man from the bank. Now that he has the opportunity to scrutinize him, Jack realizes that he’s seen this guy’s face before: he’s been supplying the Pour House for the past few months. That withstanding, how could he not have noticed some gleaming-eyed weirdo walking around? No matter who he is, it’s obvious he’s not human. It’s the only thing keeping Jack from cracking his skull open, though just barely.

 

“Pretty nice cell you’ve got. End of the hall privacy, room for two but no cellmate; nothing but the finest for Jack Marlow, huh?” the man says, glancing around the room. He places his hands in his pockets and sits on the cot directly opposite Jack, flashing an unsettling smile at him.

 

“What do you want from me?” Jack croaks out, and the stranger chuckles to himself. He takes a gold coin out of his pocket and begins a pattern of placing it on his thumb, flicking it up into the air, catching it, and starting over.

 

“Are you a gambling kinda guy, Jack? That question’s rhetorical, by the way. I know you are…”

 

He leaves off as he catches the coin in his hand and he keeps it tightly enclosed in a fist. He then looks Jack right in the eye with those yellow orbs and says:

 

“So how about we make a friendly wager? I bet that once you’re outta here—and considering who you are, I’m sure you’ll weasel your way out in a day or two—you won’t ever put another hand on Keith Kogane. And if you do, they’ll be fishin’ you outta the Hudson in pieces.”

 

The corners of Jack’s mouth twist in a snarl as he says: “You got some kinda nerve coming here and threatening me after what you and he did.”

 

The stranger’s brows rise in intrigue. He says: “Same kinda nerve it takes to smack around your boy when _you_ fucked up?”

 

Jack makes to reach out and strike him, but the stranger just as soon clamps his hand down atop Jack’s, compressing so hard that Jack’s bones begin to pop painfully. He does all of this without the faintest trace of effort in his features; he appears to be putting forth no more effort than if he were snapping a toothpick.

 

Jack can feel the veins constricting in his forehead as the other man continues trying to crack his hand. Before it becomes too much, he releases Jack’s hand, and Jack exhales so heavily that it feels like his lungs wither inside him.

 

Jack hangs his head, fitfully sucking in air and holding his tormented hand against his chest. The stranger then gets up from the other cot, looming over Jack like a phantom with his wild, burning eyes.

 

“Here’s my end of the bet: you don’t come near Keith, I guarantee you won’t see the likes of me again. Think that’s fair?” The stranger says, and when he receives no answer, he yanks Jack’s chin upward, leaning down halfway so that their faces are inches apart.

 

“That fair?” He reiterates, and Jack nods weakly in his hold. The man then scoffs and lets up on him, walking toward the back of the cell where the looking glass hangs above the cracked toilet. The man regards himself in the mirror as he reaches into his pocket, again producing the gold coin from before.

 

“Time in the slammer will do you some good, maybe teach you how to be nicer to people you invite into your bed. That way, they won’t have to come to me to be satisfied next time.” The man says, and he turns on his heel to face Jack again.

 

Jack glares at him as the man tosses the gold coin in Jack’s general direction.

 

“For your troubles.” The man says, and he vanishes from sight, leaving tendrils of smoke in his wake.

 

\----

 

Keith hears Kuro materialize behind him just as he’s peeling off his dress shirt and he tries to stave off any laughter concerning his lover’s timing. Keith discards the shirt onto the floor as Kuro moseys up and brushes Keith’s ponytail aside so that he can kiss the bare skin of his neck.

 

Keith sighs, feeling goose bumps prickling up all over him. While he’d love nothing more than for this to continue, he’s been fidgeting ever since he’s gotten home. He turns around, severing the contact between Kuro and himself so he can ask:

 

“How was it?”

 

Kuro’s eyes are in their natural, golden state. He gives Keith an assuring look and says: “It’s taken care of, kitten. Like I promised.”

 

Keith feels protest bubbling in his throat, but he ignores it. He’s had his fill of discussing Jack Marlow for the night, possibly forever. Right now, his focus ought to be elsewhere.

 

“You were right,” Keith says, which earns him a puzzled look from Kuro, “I do like playing with my food.”

 

Kuro smirks and says, “Told ya.”

 

Without ceremony, Keith rocks onto his tiptoes and presses his lips to Kuro’s. Kuro snakes an arm around Keith’s middle, but the two part when they simultaneously remember that Keith’s shirtless.

 

“I can let you get…” Kuro trails off. He’s never the type to have any loss for words, but he tries to talk himself out of touching Keith after what he’s been through, despite every muscle in his body begging him to.

 

Keith rounds on him again, urging his body closer to Kuro’s and crashing their mouths together. He laces his tongue with Kuro’s, and Kuro responds with fervor, huffing heavily into Keith. However, when Keith rolls his hips against Kuro’s, creating the most delectable friction, Kuro has to step back.

 

“What is _with_ you?” Keith asks, feeling only moderately hurt.

 

Kuro gives a shake of his head and says: “Kitten, I gotta make sure you want this.”

 

“And me kissing you without my shirt on isn’t convincing enough?” Keith counters.

 

“Look, I know what he’d do to you. I know he’d get physical with you and I’ll call you a liar if you say you weren’t reliving some of that tonight. That’s why I’m not gonna touch you unless I know better.” Kuro says, and Keith’s eyes widen with affection. It’s not “I love you” because that’s not their thing, but in Keith’s opinion, it’s damn near close enough. Kuro is someone who’s always _wanting_ , be it money or sex or booze; he’d absorb you and walk around with you under the skin of his fingertips just to say he got something out of it. So this act of proffering Keith his own say in the matter when he could just as easily have fucked him and not thought twice about it is important to Keith. Sure, Kuro’s been cognizant before about Keith’s past, but Keith is still pretty unused to having someone care for his wellbeing. It’s a welcome change.

 

Keith moves closer to Kuro and says: “Thank you for taking my feelings into consideration; that’s what makes you different from him. Now do what I say and fuck me until his taste is outta my mouth.”

 

Kuro feels his legs wobble beneath him with anticipation as he clinches the distance between them, grabbing Keith by the shoulders and hoisting him up as he initiates the kiss this time. Keith’s hands fly to Kuro’s shirt, unfastening the buttons while the two of them kiss sloppily, like they only have minutes to get this done. Keith lets out a muffled growl of frustration when he realizes he can get neither Kuro’s shirt nor his pants off due to the suspenders, and Kuro puffs out a small laugh.

 

Keith moves his head to the side just to utter the word “off”, and Kuro reconnects their mouths, one hand moving to unclip his suspenders in the back and the other cupping Keith through his trousers. Keith gasps at the contact and edges himself closer, harder against Kuro’s hand. When Kuro’s suspenders fall slightly limp, Keith yanks them off entirely, prying the top button of Kuro’s pants open at last.

 

To offer some assistance, Kuro removes his hands from Keith in order to shoulder off his dress shirt and toss it aside, Keith watching him through lidded eyes all the while. Kuro’s hand then wanders toward Keith’s ass, but before he can grab at him, Keith shoves Kuro backward onto the surface of the bed, effectively knocking the air out of him. Kuro blinks up at Keith, poised between feeling scandalized and aroused, waiting for Keith to explain himself.

 

Keith says nothing at first, but he maintains eye contact as he slips out of his pants, revealing himself completely to his lover. Kuro’s chest caves in as he breathes, taking in the sight of Keith before him. Keith’s already hard, and Kuro feels himself working up to that point, picturing how good it’ll be to have Keith clenched around him. It’s not from lack of performance—they’re pretty active with sex, in fact—but tonight’s different. Tonight he had to stand there, anger pooling in him, as he watched another man holding Keith and kissing him and touching him for what felt like an eternity. Now he’s ready to have his say, to reclaim his lover.

 

Keith sidles onto the bed, crawling on top of Kuro and saying: “Keep your eyes on me and don’t look away; I want you to see what you do to me.”

 

Kuro can’t find the right words to group together while Keith works at taking off Kuro’s pants. Kuro obliges him and bucks his hips upward, watching with heightened pleasure at the hungry look in Keith’s eye when he sees Kuro’s hardened cock.

 

Keith doesn’t even hesitate to lower his mouth onto Kuro’s cock, bobbing forward as he teasingly licks him. Keith works his tongue tantalizingly slow against the head, flitting against the slit there.

 

Kuro bites at his bottom lip and he places his hand at the back of Keith’s head, bringing him closer, silently beseeching him. After one final trace of his tongue against the underside of Kuro’s cock, Keith takes him in fully. Keith stretches his mouth so as not to hurt his jaw as he sucks Kuro, sliding his mouth forward and back just so.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ , kitten.” Kuro sighs, and Keith feels a swell of pride when he sees Kuro having to shut his eyes for a split second. He shimmies his hips closer to Keith’s mouth as Keith maintains his rhythm, and Keith bobs his head as he allows himself to surrender to the feel of Kuro filling his mouth.

 

Kuro starts to breathe heavily as he nears his end, and Keith feels a wave of heat lapping low in him as Kuro releases into Keith’s mouth and pants his name:

 

“Keith…”

 

Keith swallows and sucks him till he’s near dry before he pushes away. In turn, Kuro pants and looks at Keith with lust-dilated eyes.

 

“Kitten, you’re-”

 

“-Not done yet” Keith interjects, pushing down on Kuro’s chest when he tries to move forward. Keith then pulls his hair tie out of place, shaking his hair about and waving a hand through it. Kuro briefly chews his bottom lip.

 

Keith takes to straddling Kuro before he can try to squirm around again. His hair falls in front of his face, framing it like black ribbons as he leans down to kiss Kuro again.

 

Kuro cranes his neck up to meet Keith halfway, their tongues entwining. One hand comes to rest at the base of Keith’s neck and the other works at pinching Keith’s nipple. Keith hisses into the kiss as Kuro rubs his thumb over the nub, and Kuro all but smirks as he feels Keith beginning to leak pre-cum against his thigh.

 

Kuro moves his head to the side, dragging his mouth along Keith’s jawline before saying: “We need to get you taken care of.”

 

Keith again crashes their mouths together and he swats away Kuro’s hand when it nears Keith’s cock. Instead Keith grinds down on top of him, their hips gnashing and their cocks rubbing together in a way that makes Keith dizzy. Kuro, on the other hand, gasps, puffing hot air onto Keith’s lips as they linger near his.

 

“You’re not gonna last if you keep that up, kitten.” Kuro says.

 

Keith smirks and presses the heel of his hand against Kuro’s cock, Kuro throwing his head back against the bed in response.

 

“I can wait for you, baby. But a little insurance always helps…” Keith brushes his thumb against the head of Kuro’s cock, light and swift like someone popping a cap off a bottle. As Kuro grunts, Keith reaches behind him for the jar of petroleum jelly that always sits atop the nightstand.

 

“Don’t you think I should cut in here?” Kuro says as Keith screws the top off of the jelly. Keith scowls suspiciously at him, causing him to further explain himself:

 

“I won’t take over, but I wanna make sure it’s safe. That fair?”

 

Keith softens and takes hold of Kuro’s right hand as he says: “You can help.”

 

Kuro allows Keith to puppet his arm, letting Keith dip his fingers into the waxy substance and spread it across the pads of his fingers. He sets his free hand against Keith’s hip, holding him still as he hooks his other arm (with Keith’s guidance) around to Keith’s backside. Kuro’s finger, with Keith’s insistence, massages Keith’s hole delicately, Keith instantly moaning from the feeling and the steady build of anticipation.

 

As promised, Keith’s eyes are fixed solely on Kuro, shutting only momentarily when Kuro inserts his first digit. He’s so beautiful, so resolute that Kuro feels like he might get off on the faces he’s making alone.

 

Kuro pumps his first finger in and out a couple of times before wriggling in his second, and Keith convulses on top of him as he does so.

 

“Too much?” Kuro asks, though the look of content and the red of Keith’s cheeks serve as a proper answer.

 

“’s perfect.” Keith says, and Kuro uses that as momentum for weaving his fingers inside Keith.

 

Kuro presses forward, leaning up to kiss along Keith’s chest and trailing all the way up to his neck. In the same motion, Kuro nips at Keith’s neck and inserts a third finger into Keith, eliciting an open-mouthed gasp from Keith. He wrenches forward and has to place one of his hands on Kuro’s shoulder to steady himself.

 

Kuro bites down harder; not enough to do serious damage, but sufficient enough to leave a bright red mark in his stead. He wedges his fingers deeper into Keith and Keith huffs,

 

“Baby, please. I need it. I need you.”

 

A look of dark achievement passes over Kuro and he cruelly removes his fingers as he asks Keith:

 

“You sure you want it?”

 

Keith’s eyes plead with him as he says: “Yes.”

 

Kuro rotates his hips upward, grazing Keith’s hole with the tip of his cock, and even he himself jitters with need as he murmurs: “As long as that’s what _you_ want. You stayin’ up there?”

 

Keith looks at him sternly, tracing a hand against Kuro’s chin and saying, “I told you that you were gonna watch me; I’m not budging.” Keith then coats his own hand with petroleum jelly, smearing Kuro’s erect cock with it.

 

Keith remains quiet as he shifts, the head of Kuro’s cock lining up squarely with his hole, now lengthened and eager. Keith sinks down onto Kuro slowly, his hands poised against Kuro’s abs.

 

“Ah, kitten…” Kuro keens, Keith watching him all the while.

 

Keith soon adjusts and finds his proper position, his pink lips parted as he breathes deeply. Kuro maintains a decent amount of stoicism, but the way his cock jolts inside Keith as they make eye contact doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“Like I said before: eyes on me. I’ll do the work.” Keith instructs, and Kuro gives an affirmative shake of his head. He locks his hands tightly around Keith’s hipbones to keep him still.

 

Keith gives a small shake of his hips in preparation before lifting himself up and dragging back down onto Kuro’s cock. He slides a bit faster than either of them prepared for, and the collision makes them both groan in pleasure simultaneously. Keith repeats the action, not wanting to let up on himself in the slightest; he can take it, and the way Kuro’s face scrunches drives him crazy.

 

Keith jerks up and down on Kuro’s cock, fucking himself with a spring-like motion and whining in ecstasy the quicker he paces himself. Kuro bounces with him somewhat, having to release Keith’s right hip in favor of gripping the bed sheets.

 

Kuro watches Keith as he continues fucking himself, the starved and possessive side of him scratching its way out when he sees how much Keith’s _enjoying_ him.

 

“Fuck, kitten…Keith. Keith, you’re so beautiful. So damn beautiful, baby.” Kuro says. He wants to smother that jealous spark that’s been pressing on him all night, but Keith’s fanning it and thoughts of Jack touching him are the oil spill.

 

“You don’t know how hard it was,” Kuro pants, coiling forward and kissing Keith’s midsection, “watching him touch you. I could barely stand it.”

 

Keith’s now taken to threading his hands in Kuro’s hair, his thighs slapping lewdly against Kuro’s as he hurries faster, his head tilting backwards now and then from the sheer _feeling_ of it all, his long, dark hair slinging about.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith sighs, “I’m yours.”

 

Kuro urges Keith by circling his hips, thrusting up into him as Keith slinks down. It’s a semi-rough move, and Keith shifts until he finds that exact spot, whimpering deeply when he does with an “Oh, _fuck_.”

 

“Say it again.” Kuro says, that warm buildup simmering in his gut.

 

“I’m yours, baby.” Keith exhales, Kuro beginning to clench around him.

 

Keith’s cock is dribbling down Kuro’s front as he takes to nipping and kissing along Keith’s chest. Kuro knows he’s getting close and so he says: “Come for me then, kitten.”

 

With one final jerk of Keith hitting his own prostate, he cries out, completely soaking Kuro’s front. Keith sees stars for a fleeting second, hastily blinking them away as he knows Kuro needs a tad more coaxing.

 

Keith all but slams down on Kuro’s cock, saying things that he knows will whittle what’s left of his stamina:

 

“Kuro, baby, look at me. No one else can do this to me like you can. I’m nobody else’s.”

 

Keith gives one long, final grind against him as he says: “Come.”

 

Kuro does as he’s bid, coming with an audible gasp, and Keith lets him catch his breath, the palpitations of his own heart beating low in his ears. Keith pulls himself off of Kuro, wincing only somewhat as he smirks down at his flushed lover. The gloss of Keith’s come is actually quite enticing on Kuro’s bare stomach.

 

“Goddamn, kitten. You spoil me.” Kuro says as Keith settles next to him on the bed.

 

“Yeah, well, you helped me tonight. I owed you after all that.” Keith says, and Kuro turns his head to the side to press a kiss into Keith’s sweat-slicked hair.

 

Kuro looks down at his stomach and says, “What a mess. I oughta clean up, look more presentable for you.”

 

Keith pouts as Kuro gets up from the bed, though he does feel the least bit pleased that there’s a lurch in his step.

 

“And what am I supposed to do while you’re cleaning up, hmm?” Keith purrs, to which Kuro turns around.

 

Kuro cocks his head in the direction of the night’s loot, all hastily shoved in the corner next to Kuro’s closet.

 

“I do think you promised me somethin’ along the lines of rolling naked in money?”

 

A little coquette smile works its way to Keith’s face and lights up his violet eyes. Keith says: “I sure did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling Sochan, so sorry that this took longer than expected! Hopefully the payoff is enough. Thanks for letting me write for you.


End file.
